remembered or
known to _reason_, so this music shrinks from it. It is wonderful how
beauty perishes like a shade-grown flower before the sunlight of
analysis. It is dying out all the world over in women, under the
influence of cleverness and "style;" it is perishing in poetry and art
before criticism; it is wearing away from manliness, through
priggishness; it is being crushed out of true gentleness of heart and
nobility of soul by the pessimist puppyism of miching Mallockos. But
nature is eternal and will return. When man has run one of his phases of
culture fairly to the end, and when the fruit is followed by a rattling
rococo husk, then comes a winter sleep, from which he awakens to grow
again as a child-flower. We are at the very worst of such a time; but
there is a morning redness far away, which shows that the darkness is
ending, the winter past, the rain is over and gone. Arise, and come
away!

"Sossi kair'd tute to av'akai pardel o boro pani?" (And what made you
come here across the broad water?) said the good old dame confidentially
and kindly, in the same low monotone. "Si lesti chorin a gry?" (Was it
stealing a horse?)

_Dum_, _dum_, _dum_, _patter_, _patter_, _dum_! played the rain.

"Avali I dikked your romus kaliko" (I saw your husband yesterday),
remarked some one aside to a girl.

_Dum_, _dum_, _dum_, _patter_, _patter_, _dum_!

"No, mother deari, it was not a horse, for I am on a better, higher lay."

_Dum_, _dum_, _dum_, _patter_, _patter_, _dum_!

"He is a first-rate dog, but mine's as good."

_Dum_, _dum_, _dum_, _patter_, _dum_!

"Tacho! There's money to be made by a gentleman like you by telling
fortunes."

_Dum_, _dum_, _dum_, _patter_, _dum_!

"Yes, a five-hundred-dollar hit sometimes. But _dye_, I work upon a
better lay."

_Dum_, _dum_, _dum_, _patter_, _dum_!

"Perhaps you are _a boro drabengro_" (a great physician).

_Dum_, _dum_, _dum_, _patter_, _dum_!

"It was away among the rocks that he fell into the reeds, half in the
water, and kept still till they went by."

"If any one is ill among you, I may be of use."

_Dum_, _dum_, _dum_, _patter_, _dum_!

"And what a wind! It blows as if the good Lord were singing! Kushti
chirus se atch a-kerri." (This is a pleasant day to be at home.)

_Dum_, _dum_, _dum_, _patter_, _dum_!

"I thought you were a doctor, for you were going about in the town with
the one who sells medicine. I heard of it."

_Dum_, _dum_,